For the Fallen
by RaichuTec
Summary: Once you've gone to the dark, they say there's no way back. Or is there...?
1. Soulless

For the Fallen 

by Raichutec

The snows of Northrend coated the world in a blanket of pristine clarity. The tranquility of the slumbering mountainside belied the activity that scurried down below. The cold winds made no difference to those who had no blood in their veins to chill. The cold empowered them, and provided safety while their numbers increased and lost resources were again reclaimed.

The purity of white had been cleared away for the camp that festered in the cracked earth of the blight. The summoning of the Necropolis always brought with it the scorched lands, even within the ice and cold. Arthas nudged his mount forward, despite the precarious position against the cliff's edge. Dutifully it obeyed, snorting once in a form of protest, but never would the beast disobey the death knight settled within its saddle. None of them dared, except perhaps those who held equal sway within the eyes of the Lich King. Ner'zhul did not choose his champions because of their raw power alone, he choose them also for their strength of conviction for furthering his dark plans. It lead occasionally to conflict, but rarely did that conflict escalate. Not when he and his compatriot managed to bond in a bizarre manner during the Burning Legion's invasion.

From the corner of his gaze, he spotted slight movement, a fluttering of black tapers on the high mountain winds. A smile curved his lips slightly and a wry tone colored his words as he spoke aloud, "Kel'Thuzad... why seek me here?"

The lich drifted forward silently, crossing bony fingers over one another as he, too, gazed down at the flurry of workers in the camp below. "You have been troubled lately. Ner'Zhul himself has asked me to speak with you. Perhaps... he thinks that you are not able to complete this campaign."

Pale eyes narrowed at the accusation, turning toward Kel'Thuzad with a baleful stare, "The Lich King sees all, and if he decides I am unworthy, then he can tell me that himself."

A rasping chuckle emitted from the lich's throat, head bowed momentarily in thought. "As abrasive as ever, aren't you, Prince Arthas? Perhaps we are both wrong. Or are we...? Tomorrow, we are to sail south again. And I know you dream of her. What will you do, do you think, when you see her again?"

"Kel'Thuzad, I am soulless, I am not priveledged enough to have dreams," the death knight replied icily. Gloved fingers closed over the hilt of Frostmourne, where the blade slept in its sheathe and crooned quietly. The gesture was meant as a quiet reminder. His soul was no longer his own and his nights were dead, darkness and nothing more. He woke with no shattered remnants of a dreamscape.

"So it is true, then," the former necromancer mused aloud, "I often wondered how the soulless slept."

"Like the dead, Kel'Thuzad," Arthas assured quietly, "Like the dead."

The camp disassembled at nightfall, gathering in the ghost ships that housed their ilk and transported them across the vast ocean, down from the cold of Northrend and into the more temperate regions where the living carved out their varied existances. Arthas found himself staring at the dark, choppy waters, the sea breeze winding through pale locks of hair and keeping the cowl draped around his shoulders. The warmth renewed the blood in his veins, the scent filled his nostrils with nostalgia of another time and another place. Two years had passed since the great war, since the time that he was known as Prince Arthas, rather than Ner'Zhul's champion. When he had knelt before his father in the great throne room, before the court, and been told to join Uther in routing the Orcs.

He never imagined where his fate would eventually take him, into the cold embrace of Frostmourne and service to the Lich King. Two years as a death knight, living within the cold barrens of Northrend and handing down the dictates of his master to the masses. And yet, even now he could not feel regret, or shame, in his fall from grace. He felt nothing for his sins, but he could not quite forget HER.

"Perhaps the Lich King is right," he mused aloud, gaze never tearing from the dark, oceanic world, not even as Kel'Thuzad's ethereal form appeared from the shadows. "What do you think, lich? For I know you have been watching me for some time."

"I have been instructed to watch you, Arthas," the lich replied solemnly, emitting a vexed sigh. "I think you will betray our lord and master and I will have to kill you."

"Then why do you not do it now?" the death knight asked quietly.

Kel'Thuzad chuckled with a baleful rasp, "Because, I have not been instructed to, yet."


	2. Forget Me Not

Morning found both streams of light beaming down on the tile floor of the laboratory and a young Sorceress bent over her work, where she toiled for most of the night. Finding sleep to often elude her, Jaina usually came down to the labs to burn off the midnight oil, always a project to work on or research to get to. Since the refounding of Dalaran, she always had work of some sort to do, taking the place of Antonidas. Renewl sprang across the land just as the seasons changed from frosty winter's grip to the greenery of spring. April also meant rain, and so the sun's appearance that morning brought the young woman to smile quietly and rise from her activities and drift to the balcony that overlooked the recently raised buildings of the greater city.

But, to her dismay, the night had grown chill enough to leave a soft blanket of frost over the cityscape. It would melt before noon, surely, but it signified that the warmth of summer would be elusive yet. Exhaling, at least her breath was not a fine white mist. This would pass and with the passage of time, the warm winds would return to caress and comfort.

She turned again, back into the confines of the laboratory. Her thoughts turned inward, along with her mind's eye, she did not at first realize another had entered and now stood quietly nearby, awaiting her attention. Not until she drew herself out of her revelries and gasped with surprise. "Uther! By the Light, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that!"

Gruff laughter responded to her chiding, "Aye, girl, but I never thought myself the sneaky type in all this loud armor. Ye checked yer ears lately? Bah, forget all that, I haven't seen ye for nearly six months, give an old man a hug?"

With a laugh, Jaina forgot all her restraints, rushing forward to throw her arms around the burly Paladin and cling to him as she had so many times before, while still a young child. Being much taller now, it was a bit more awkward, but Uther still swept her off her feet and spun her around once before returning her to the ground, "Look at ye. Lovely as ever. I shouldn't stay away so long next time."

"Oh Uther, I've been dreadfully lonely here. So much to do, to see to. It's only recently been getting calm again," she replied with exasperation, sinking down into the nearest chair. Uther remained standing, though the look of consternation on his features instantly brought her to regret bringing up her lonliness. He had an argument ready, she could just see it.

"Well if you'd quit turning down your suitors, ye might not be lonely, girl. I heard about the last one. Did ye even give him a chance?"

"Um, well..." Jaina stumbled immediately. A fine public speaker now among her magic wielding compatriots, she often fumbled over her words when under the scrutinizing gaze of the leader of the Paladins and Lordaeron's Regent. "It's just... I can't really find someone that I want to be with, you know?"

The expression on Uther's weathered features shifted to a weary exasperation, then. He exhaled in a tired sigh and shook his head, "Jaina, it's been two years. Ye--"

"Oh for-- I know, Uther!" she cut him short, biting her tongue afterwards at the parental stare leveled down at her. Uther had raised sons and daughters of his own, even if they were all older than Jaina, and with just a look, could easily stare down an uppity youngester. "I'm sorry but... I just can't."

To her surprise, there were no biting words, no rebuke for her admission. Just a hand reaching out to squeeze her shoulder for a moment and a gentle voice murmuring, "I miss him too, girl. Loved him as if he were one of my own. But he's long gone now and we can't save him or bring him back. I wish you'd just get on with your life. But I guess you'll just have to decide that on your own."

Head lifting, Jaina couldn't help the perplexity in her expression. Uther often forbade anyone from speaking Arthas' name in his company. He spoke vehemently against anyone who dared to defend or speculate on the former prince's motivations. Yet, to her, he revealed the true reasoning behind his anger. His grief, and his terrible remorse. The smile that curved her lips was soft, commiseration for the regret she knew the paladin still harbored. "Thank you."

"Hrmph," he replied, straightening again with his features smoothing into the gruff expression he always wore. "Well, let's get something to eat, hmm? I've been traveling for some time and I dearly want something other than rations. We can talk about this later."

The subject was better dropped, Jaina knew, but she also understood Uther's concern. She had put off marriage, despite her noble heritage, while claiming she had Dalaran to rebuild. Now that the city was mostly completed and she had free time, instead she made other excuses to avoid social events and suitors. The gossips already murmured among one another. And if any of them had any inkling of the sorts of experiments she performed quietly within the safety of her sanctum, their jaws would fall to the floor...


	3. The Oracle

Author's Voice: Sorry everyone for the late update, but I was trapped in November Novel Writing Month hell. I'm done now, so I can get back to my fictions.

Disclaimer: Warcraft terms, characters and the like all belong to Blizzard.

Part 3: The Oracle

Though Uther took the time to pay homage at any Altar of Kings on a weekly basis, it was with a troubled spirit that he entered the foundation of his faith and a heavy heart that bowed him low before the dais. Jaina's obvious sorrow and inability to simply move on with her life bothered him far more than he ever let on to her. The most powerful Sorceress in Dalaran she might be, but to Uther, she was still the small child he recalled bouncing on his knee when he was but a newly made Paladin and she the child of a great and mighty warrior.

He had similar memories of another young one, the son of Terenas, but he chose to forget those. Concentrate on the future, he often said, and dwell not on the past.

_You forget your own advice today,_ a quiet voice interrupted not but a moment after he knelt before the grand alabaster stairs leading to the main dais.

Head lifting, Uther could not help the startled intake of his breath or the automatic furrowing of his brows. In looking all around him, he could not see the source of the voice. No one else stood near him, anywhere. "Who goes there? What trickery is this? Only those who follow the Light may enter these halls."

_We are before you, behind you, around you and within you, _the voice replied cryptically_. Be still and fear us not, Champion. We are not here to play games. We are here to give you an edict. You will further the goals of the Light._

Struck dumb with awe, Uther immediately bowed low again, hands clasped before him as he averted his eyes toward the ground in reverence. "Forgive me, servant of the Light. I grow too paranoid in my old age. Tell this humble one what can be done to bring light to darkness."

The voice chuckled, soft as distant windchimes captured in a light breeze, inviting and enchanting all at once. _Rise, Champion. You have always served well. But what we ask now is most crucial. You must go now with the Sorceress and find the lost Prince of Lordaeron._

Uther's brows shot up in an expression of surprise, and then furrowed right back down again, skeptical suddenly, "What do you ask of me, to destroy him at last?"

_No, we want you to save him. To free his soul from the dark runeblade, Frostmourne._

To his credit, Uther bit down on his tongue to stifle the instant retort he had resting there. He bit it hard enough to taste copper, and then slowly drew in a breath while his chaotic thoughts settled. "I have never questioned my duty. Not once in all my life dedicated to the Light. But this I must protest! That boy betrayed the light, turned his back on his paladin-hood and murdered his own father, a man I loved like a brother. And you wish for me to save him?"

_We do not expect you to understand, Champion. We understand why you hesitate. But the prince has fulfilled his part in the prophecy of old. It is time he returned from darkness._

"He should bloody well remain in that darkness!" the paladin spat, raising a gloved fist toward the last direction the voice heeded from. But, the anger drained from him so quickly, his hand slowly lowering as the voice held silent, allowing his own inner reproaches to do their work. "Forgive me, I allow my own emotions to cloud my judgment. If this is the will of the Light, then I shall see it done."

_But you still hesitate. You have questions._

"Yes, I do. You resurrected me to serve. I am honored to continue my life as a paladin, but I cannot fathom why you would redeem this fallen man. How can he return, how can he possibly atone for what he has done?" Uther's grief touched his voice, a hand grasping against his chest as he felt that familiar knot of pain. Arthas' betrayal had broken his spirit for so long, and he kept it hidden inside for the sake of others. Now it felt as if the one thing he took comfort in now tore up those old wounds and left them bleeding anew.

_We knew of his betrayal. We knew the consequences of allowing his path to spiral into shadow. We allowed him to go._

Suddenly, it all made sense. Uther's eyes widened in shock, his knees and faith shaken. "You... allowed him to go into the darkness? He killed scores of people, murdered his own father, caused the deaths of thousands with his actions. And yet, this is acceptable?"

_Had he not played his part, thousands more would have died and the world you know now would be but a cinder. Let not your faith slip, Champion. Arthas played a role in a scheme greater than anything you could understand. We have left him in shadow too long. Let him come home. Remember, warrior, it is our place to forgive. It is what sets us apart from the darkness. Guard well your heart._

And the voice spoke no further, gone like the flame of a candle left out in the rain. The palpable sensation of another presence evaporated and Uther knew he was alone again. His knees buckled and he found himself kneeling yet again before the Altar of Kings. Fervently his hands clasped together and he prayed. For himself, for Jaina, and for the soul of a man he now knew had been used as a puppet, for a greater good.

(To be continued.)


End file.
